


Two Creations

by fringeperson



Category: Neko no Ongaeshi | The Cat Returns
Genre: Don't copy to another site, F/M, I had no idea what I was doing when I wrote this and I know better now, Old Fic, but I'm not going to deny its existance just because it's old and bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:54:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27449722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fringeperson/pseuds/fringeperson
Summary: Two creations, degrees of separation.~Originally posted in '08
Relationships: Baron Humbert von Gikkingen/Yoshioka Haru, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I warn you again, this is Very Old Writing - and I haven't changed anything except a couple of typos.

_Why is it so hot?_

Long, black tongs, a craftsman's tool, reached through the ribbons of burning air, pushing them aside and splitting them around its resistant length. The teeth of the controlled jaw closed gently, tenderly, around the small figure that stood among the waves of heat in the annealing oven.

_So much better._

The air was still hot, but less so, and slightly more humid – the sweat of a craftsman working hard making the workshop smell heady, rather than achingly dry. A solid surface rose up from beneath, and the blackened maw withdrew.

On the shelf, the foot-high glass figure stood, perfectly poised and lovely. Mahogany curls dripped from an ivory-tinted face. Jewels made from honey and amber were aglow, perhaps reflecting the fire of the furnace. Beneath the cloudy dress, or perhaps nightgown, tiny feet and perfect ankles could just be seen. Slender arms hung by the gown's billowing sides.

The young man smiled. He was a journeyman, but this figure was his masterpiece, and he had laboured seven long days and nights, wanting his creation to be prefect. The first day, he had made her naked form with the ivory coloured glass. The second day, he had covered that perfect, delicate form with the dress, hiding the soft curves modestly. The third, fourth, and fifth days, he had tested, through trial and error, on junk glass from the cullet barrel, how the hair would flow, the eyes would shine, and how he would add the lace and ribbons to the dress. On the sixth day, he had applied the result of his testing, growing the hair from her head. This, the seventh day, was an understanding of eyes, and at last, she was finished, even her time in the annealing oven was over.

"My masterpiece, my delicate little fey," he said, smiling happily at the beauty. This was why he had become a glassmaker: to make beautiful things, all delicate and precious.

"The time has come –" said a voice behind him.

"The walrus said," he quipped, the smile still on his face as he turned to the man who had taught him so much.

"To talk of many things," the older man said, nodding his head, a chuckle in his voice as he smiled at his friend. "I suppose you'll be leaving me now eh, _Master_ von Jokingen?"

The lad's smile grew at the new title. He had done it. He was a master of his trade.

"I suppose so," he answered. "There are a one or two things left for me to do with my life, after all."

"Marrying that young lady of yours not the least among them."

The younger man blushed, and the elder laughed at his shyness.

"Humbert my boy, if you don't make a ring and propose to Louise today – the day you have become a master of your trade…"

The tawny-haired and be-freckled youth did not need further telling, and got to work. Three hours passed, and the only interruption in to his work in that time was a trip to the jewel-cutters for a diamond to set in the ring. The sun was going down now, but at last, he was done.

"Hah?" A slap and an "ooh!" followed shortly after.

The new master Humbert turned to the workshop's open door and smiled again. His best friend and his sweetheart both were standing in the half-light. He followed his friend's gaze.

"I'll make that your name then," he told the glass girl. "Haru. Hmm, sounds foreign… I don't know what sort of last name will go with Haru."

"Yoshioka," Louise answered to the query presented to her in her Humbert's eyes. She moved to stand beside him. "My cousin visiting Japan has made a friend there called Yoshioka," she added by way of explanation.

Humbert nodded. "Haru Yoshioka it is then… Louise, I got my mastery today."

The ring was still warm, but now only pleasantly so – it wouldn't burn or blister, and he held it carefully in his hand. He was nervous, but he couldn't _not_ ask.

"I knew you would," Louise said, her blue eyes glowing brightly in the furnace-light as she smiled proudly at him.

"Louise –" he took her hand tenderly in his, going down on one knee. "Will you marry me?" Hope was written all over his sweaty face, as he held the ring poised at the tip of the appropriate finger on her left hand.

"Of course I will!"

_My name is Haru Yoshioka._


	2. Chapter 2

"Tea, father," a woman of no particular standing called. Her black hair was loosely tied back in a horsetail, and her yellow skin was still smooth and yet un-touched by the lines of aging.

"Ah, my Hiromi. You are good to your papa. Have you also made Johan-sama's tea?" he asked, accepting the tray with the tea things, though too busy smiling at his beloved daughter to look down at his new burden.

"Yes father. I even remembered the 'shortbread biscuits' he likes to dip in his tea," the girl added, scrunching her nose slightly at the strange idea before bowing to the men and leaving them alone in the workshop where they had been talking.

Old man Yoshioka took his small white cup and tipped it gently against his lips. A few drops of jasmine tea slipped past his whiskers before he removed the thick porcelain edge once again.

Johan poured a little milk into his tea, mixed it up with the shortbread – quickly ate up the soaking, crumbling cookie, then allowed a mouthful of the hot brown tea to flow over the thin edge of the pink-and-blue china cup and down his throat.

Both men sighed in delight as the hot drink warmed and soothed them.

_I wonder; what does that tastes like?_

"Yoshioka-sama, that is… that is… I need to learn more of your language. In German, I might say _wünderbach_ , but even that might not encompass the meaning… You are truly skilled. He seems almost _alive_."

The old man smiled over his tea, proud of his work. Wood-shavings were everywhere; the floor, the table, his white beard; even the windows were covered in the finest of the wood-dust. Thankfully, it had yet to get into their teas.

The painted wooden doll stood just over a foot tall, not including his pointed cat's ears and top hat. His cats' face had been painted a handsome ginger – lighter at the chin, and darker at the nose, but otherwise an exquisite marmalade all over. The same colour could be seen between his gloves and the cuffs of his shirt, and again all down his fine tail. Whiskers of real hair had been carefully glued to his face, and his glass eyes were the green of moss, emeralds and lime.

His suit, which had been so confusing to his maker, was light grey; the trousers, a tailcoat, and the top hat all matching. His shirt was the colour of fresh cream; his vest a dusty red and bow tie a like-wise faded royal blue. The cane in his white-gloved hand was cedar, and merely varnished rather than painted.

Truly, the old man had put his heart into this piece.

"I'm glad you've changed your mind about him. When you first saw him, without the paint or his eyes, you thought he looked odd."

The traveller smiled crookedly at his aged host.

"Do you blame me? In my country, we do not usually mix man and animal like this."

"Just proves that the world is filled with different ways of looking at things. Now tell me Johan-sama, the suit – it is right, yes? You know I am not so familiar with your customs of dress as I am with my own."

Johan laughed. "Yes, yes. It is exactly like the suit my cousin's sweetheart wore to his first dance. Humbert I think his name was… Humbert von Jokingen."

"I like the sound of that name, but it seems not quite right for this one," the old man pondered. "This, the work of my heart. Hmm… I shall give him a title! Baron Humbert von Gikkingken! What think you of that my friend?"

"I think, Sensei Hatsu-Haru Yoshioka, that that is a very fine name." Johan did not comment on the slight butchering of the pronunciation. The man's accent could not be helped after all.

 _Baron Humbert von Gikkingken, so that is who I am_.


	3. Chapter 3

Little Haru Yoshioka blinked her honey-glass eyes, the bell-like sound of living glass so light that even she could barely hear it.

Carefully, wary of breaking herself, she tiptoed to the orange flame. It wasn't as hot as the furnace that had been used to shape her, nor the annealing oven she had woken in. Rather, it was just pleasantly warm as she wove her fingers through the flickering light-source.

The flame faded away. It sank down, away from the wick of the candle into the girl's hand.

Haru stared at her hand for a moment. She could still feel the warmth, and that warmth slowly leeched up her arm, into her chest, down into her stomach, across to her other arm and down into both her legs, all the way to her toes. The warmth spread through her face as well, though it did not continue into her hair or dress.

Her maker, Humbert, had put her up on his mantle. From there, she saw every day of his life go by. She had watched Louise go from being a cherished visitor to an adored wife, and she couldn't be jealous – though sometimes she did wish that there was such a one for her, who would sweep her off her feet at the end of every day.

From the mantle though, she could see so much – so much that she wanted to get closer to and examine more carefully. Books on shelves across the room, flowers in the window-box, the quilt Louise had made that was draped over the chair by the fireplace, and the fireplace itself held an intricate fascination for her. Would _it_ be as hot as the furnace or annealing oven?

The fire had been banked for the night, a proof against the German winter, but occasionally there would be a _pop_ and a spark would jump high into the back of the brick cove below her.

Right now though, she also wanted to learn more about the Christmas tree that was in the corner, just out of her reach.

Holly boughs decorated the small house in abundance, held up with ivy and laced through with green twigs from other evergreen flora. Deciding to be brave, the glass girl slipped her legs over the edge of the mantle and grabbed onto some of the secured plants. The girl of living glass started to climb down.

Touching down on the stone edge around the fireplace, Haru stopped. The sound was wrong. She was glass, there should have been a gentle _ping_ when her cold toes met the cold granite… but there wasn't… there was a soft _hap_ , like when Humbert or Louise are walking on the wooden floor boards in bare feet.

I'm real?

Yes, she had always been real in the sense that she was made of real glass, solid, not about to disappear in a flash of light, but to be _real_ in the sense of, well, _alive_ , like her maker… it was a suddenly wonderful and worrying thought. Humbert had spent so much time making her – what if she couldn't ever be his precious glass masterpiece again!

Haru closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing herself still, back into her glass state. Here eyes snapped themselves open and she couldn't move – she was still, frozen glass. Movement was _not_ an option. How was she going to get back up to her place on the mantle now?

The feeling of the candle's flame blossomed in her chest again, sending warmth through her body. She could move again.

How curious: I'm not living glass any more, but rather glass that can come to life. There must be some kind of magic in all this.

Everyone knows that magic isn't really real though. Magic is a moment spent with the one you love and realising that the world, just for a few seconds, is absolutely perfect; it is not fey, gnomes, pixie dust, spells or magicians.


	4. Chapter 4

So, just how did this happen, precisely?

Baron Humbert von Gikkingken or Baron for short, stared at his gloved hand as he opened and closed it before his face in the dim light cast by the lanterns that hung in the garden.

He had been left in the window one night with a view of the sunset, and the warmth of the fading light had seemed to just seep into his heartwood. The feline gentleman could remember smiling as he watched the sun disappear, then his ear had itched and he had reached up to deal with it.

The doll had expected to touch a wooden ear, what his gloved hand had actually touched was something that had been velvety soft and warm. A real ear, like on a real cat.

He felt different all over, now that he was going over himself. His clothes were fabric, his tail and face were covered in fur, the only thing that hadn't changed at all was his cane, and walking sticks were usually made of wood any way.

Baron sat down and considered this strange change. How was it possible? What had triggered the change? Was it reversible? That last was a good question. The gentlecat wasn't sure how Sensei Yoshioka would take it, that his favourite work wasn't a work any more, but life instead.

He would probably be thrilled, but then, he might also have a heart attack, and that wouldn't be good. So… wood. He needed to know if he could will this change, rather than it just happening to him. The cat concentrated on the memory of what it felt like to be wood. His body snapped-to, and he knew he was lying on the shelf, a wooden doll again, and unable to move.

It was only marginally better. For his maker to think he had been knocked over in the night, rather than come alive, well… the old man could be superstitious… he might think his house had become haunted… In a way, Baron supposed it had – certainly, he wasn't the usual kind of life, or unlife, or anything like that.

Am I both alive, and dead?

The warm touch of light came again; an answering warmth that had never really left him flowed again. The doll sat up. So life was his, but what was he to do with it?

Well, there were plenty of books, and he had seen his maker, and his friend both, reading through them in the quiet times. Perhaps he could try that…

Deciphering the strange characters was, to say the very least, a challenge. He had never turned his glassy green eyes to this task before, after all, and had no real idea of what he was looking at. He tried another book. The characters in this book were completely different. The doll did not realise that he had exchanged a Japanese book for a German one. It didn't help him much though. The second was no more understandable to him than the first one had been.

With a sigh of frustration, Humbert von Gikkingken, Baron of the window-ledge, raised his top hat to run a gloved hand through the fur between his ears. It was a surprisingly soothing motion, though he didn't understand why, or what had prompted the motion.

Another sigh escaped his warm, furred lips, past small, sharp teeth that had never been carved, because the mouth had been shaped shut. The world around him just did not seem to make sense.

Will it ever?


	5. Chapter 5

Children are so… destructive. Adorable though…

Predictably, Humbert and Louise had a child. A year later, they had another, then (to everybody's surprise) triplets two years after that.

Haru had been moved from the mantle piece to a glass-fronted cabinet with a lock on it as soon as the first child was crawling. No one had wanted to see her suffer breaking at the hands of an ignorant child.

The glass girl was just as glad, even if she couldn't get out. She could see very clearly the way the chubby, bubbly, sticky little things treated their toys – bashing them against something, throwing them across the room to see how far they would fly. Yes, being locked in a display cabinet was much more preferable.

Even better, it had an over-the-shoulder view of the chair were Louise and Humbert would read stories to the little ones, pointing to each word as they said it, for the child's benefit. Thanks to story time, Haru was learning to read.

Furthermore, because she was locked in the cabinet, there was no chance of her being spotted poking around the house when Humbert or Louise had to get up in the night to answer a cry by one or more of the children.

The children grow so fast!

It wasn't long before they were going to school and bringing home stories of games they had played, friends they had made, and homework they had to do. In the triplet's case, there were also letters presented about tricks they had played.

Haru liked it when the children would do their homework on the carpet where she could see them. They learnt, and she learnt.

Though having never been given a chance to practice any of her knowledge, Haru was certain in her understanding of the theory, and puzzled ever question with the studious child, sometimes coming to the answer before the child, satisfied when they got the same answer, and it was correct.

After a time though, the homework ceased, and the children left on apprenticeships. Even Lisa, the middle child and only girl, signed on to be an apprentice to a tailor, despite her mother's objections.

Letters were another source of interest to Haru. They always contained news from friends and family members that she had not seen in the house, as well as from some that she had. Most interesting, she thought, were the ones from Cousin Johan. There would often be another page with strange symbols on, and translations of these symbols. The triplets enjoyed these letters as well. They were very keen on learning to read and write these strange characters, that they called "Japanese Script".

Since they were learning, Haru learnt too.

I hope I get to meet this cousin Johan one day… his letters are so interesting.


	6. Chapter 6

I think the daughter saw me last night…

"Johan-sama, I shall miss your company. You will write to me when you have returned to your home country, will you not?" asked old man Yoshioka, his wrinkled hands wrapped around his daughter's as she stood comfortably between the two men.

"You mean you shall miss your daughter," Johan joked, smiling broadly at his now father-in-law.

"Ah, that also, but I will certainly miss our conversations." Yoshioka rubbed his neck at the admission, but still smiled his sincerity.

"I will certainly write, but it is only for a month – just a honeymoon. Truly, I only wish to visit with my family back in Germany, I feel much more that Japan is my home."

"Even if you do still get your grammar wrong sometimes," Hiromi teased her new husband gently, causing both of the men to laugh.

They hadn't meant to, but over the years, the two had fallen in love out of almost pure familiarity. They had come to know each other's little habits so well that being with any one else had seemed foolish.

The happy couple left, and old man Yoshioka sighed.

"Who is going to take care of me now? I not sure that I can remember how to do it for myself any more… I don't suppose you know how to make a good cup of tea, Baron?"

I could always try.

The figurine smiled at the thought, only realising that he had when he saw the surprised expression on his maker's face.

"I need to get my eyes checked," the man mumbled to himself, tilting his head back and pinching his nose, clearing his thoughts. "Well, time to see if I can still make my own tea." Yoshioka stared a while at the cat figurine he had worked so hard on, then picked it up and took it with him. "Making tea is an education, and an education is something a gentleman like you should have."

Baron watched avidly as old man Yoshioka mixed flowers, leaves, and occasionally spices, boiling them and tasting them. Sometimes, there was a relieved sigh, and he would write down the ingredients he had used and their proportions. Unfortunately, and more usually, the old man would pull a disgusted face, spit the tea back into his cup, then pour it disdainfully down the sink.

That night, when his maker had retreated to his bedroom, the dapper feline started experimenting.

First he caught a spark of light and sent it bouncing around the room, letting it catch on any surface that could reflect it. Soon the kitchen was well lit. He ran a few laps around the obstacle course of pots, pans, and varying heights of the horizontal surfaces, then turned his attention to tea.

His maker had left his notes from experimenting all day right beside him on the shelf. Baron Humbert von Gikkingken was now going to try for himself. Three hours later, he was satisfied. The blend he enjoyed best was a little different every time he poured it out, yes, but it was by far the most enjoyable.

Old Man Yoshioka would be proud of his creation and student.


	7. Chapter 7

The famous cousin arrives…

Haru could barely contain her glee. She wanted to join the family in rushing to greet Cousin Johan, but she could not – it would give away her secret. Sometimes she wondered if it would really be such a bad thing, if they found out, but then… no, better she not tell them.

"Who made the little glass girl? She is so beautiful."

Haru nearly blushed at the praise. Hiromi, Cousin Johan's new wife, was staring at her with such intensity – it made Haru want to hide her face in her hands, she was so shy all of a sudden.

"My Humbert made her for his masterpiece. He proposed to me the day he finished," Louise answered in a broken mixture of German and Japanese – both women were able to understand only this much of the other's language, so it worked out well for them. Their husbands were taking the von Jokingen children for ice cream. Never yet had a child grown out of a love for ice cream, and they wanted to spend time with their favourite relative.

"She looks alive… My father made a doll, a long time ago now, and sometimes, I would swear that I have seen him moving on his own."

There are others like me?

"I know what you mean – sometimes I feel as though I am being watched, but I am the only one in the room, apart from little Haru here…"

The conversation was cut off by the return of the husbands and children, and Louise moved to put Haru back on her shelf in the cabinet (she had been removed so that Hiromi could get a better look at her). The mother of five transferred the glass girl as carefully as she could, but she had not expected her youngest to suddenly hug her from behind. It almost knocked her over.

Haru suddenly realised she didn't have a choice. The family was going to find out about her, or she was going to end up a nasty mess of broken glass.

Jumping desperately from Louise's open hand, Haru made it to her shelf and scrambled up, puffing just a little from the fright of it all, then stood and resumed her frozen pose, once more in her proper place on the shelf.

It occurred to her slightly too late that what she had done might have been dismissed as a trick of the light if she had stayed on her side on she shelf, rather than standing upright. Oh well, it was too late now.

"I just saw my masterpiece move of her own volition…" Humbert said quietly, still in shock at what he had seen. What he could not possibly have seen…

"So did I," Johan said.

Hiromi nodded, unable to force sound from her mouth.

"I felt her jump out of my hand," Louise said, staring dumbly at the delicate, fey-like girl now standing on her shelf.

"Haru?" the eldest, Samson, a glassmaker just like his father, approached the girl tentatively. "Please wake up Haru."

A man his age should not be able to still do the puppy-eyes.

Haru sighed, and relented. Actually, it was quite nice, being involved in their conversations, rather than being separate from them.


	8. Chapter 8

So, this is what they call sadness…

Old man Yoshioka had died. His creator had passed away as he slept, his heart simply stopping. At least he had not been alone in the house when it happened.  
Johan-sama and Hiromi-chan had returned from Germany the day before the dreadful passing. The joy of their honeymoon shattered with grief over something that they could not have helped.

"Why won't he wake up?" a pretty voice asked.

Baron Humbert von Gikkingken searched the room for the owner of the voice, but he could see only the two humans, and he knew that neither of them had voiced that question.

"He won't wake up because he's dead, Haru dear," Hiromi said, looking down at the floor in front of her, a space shielded by Johan, so that the Baron could not see it.

"I'm not sure that I understand," said the sweet voice. "Is dead like… Master Humbert's other pieces, that never woke up like I did?"

The wooden doll almost jumped at the words. Was the one speaking… like him?

"Sort of Haru, sort of," Johan answered. "At least he got to meet you, yes? That made him very happy I know," the man said, though in a different language – the language Baron had often heard him conversing with Old Man Yoshioka in on a Sunday afternoon, as though reminding himself that he still knew all the words.

"I am glad to have brought him happiness," the bell-like voice answered, also in that foreign language.

Baron was surprised that, while he had barely grasped the meaning of Johan's words, he perfectly understood what had been said by the slightly ethereal female voice.

Who could she be?

"Haru, there was someone else I wanted to introduce you to," Hiromi said gently, bending down to be on eye level with someone much smaller than herself. "Someone who, I think, is like you…"

So, the daughter had seen him before she left. Well, if it meant he got to meet the owner of the sweet voice, and she had given up her secret, then he was prepared to risk likewise.

"Like me?"

Hiromi nodded and held out her hand, letting Haru climb on and hold tightly before she moved again.

Baron almost visibly swallowed. The girl was beautiful. He felt like a monster in comparison. He had often enough caught his own reflection in the window, and wondered why

Old Man Yoshioka had fashioned him as such a strange mix of man and beast… but never until this moment had he regretted not being wholly one or the other.

"You mean the Baron Humbert von Gikkingken that your father made, Hiromi-chan? I finally get to meet him?" asked the girl, staring in wonder up at the woman who held her so carefully.

"Yes, Haru. Here he is – though I don't know if he would rather not speak with people yet, after all, until we met, you had been hiding your secret from your family for –"

"About twenty years, I think," Haru supplied, a look of sadness flitting across her face. "So much time wasted out of fear…"

Baron could feel his heart hammering in his chest, unable to help the warm feeling that had spread through him at the sight of the girl.

She is so lovely…


	9. Chapter 9

He is so different… So unusual… Please let him be able to wake up…

Haru didn't know to whom she made this silent plea, but with all her heart, she wished that he would.

Hiromi gently set her on the shelf beside him, and made to leave with Johan, giving the statuettes some privacy, in case it was just a matter of the wooden cat doll being shy around humans, rather than genuinely being completely inanimate.

"Hello," Haru begins tentatively, taking a shy step towards the cat doll, only to stop and shake her head. "Silly, he probably doesn't speak German," she muttered to herself, before starting again, this time in Japanese. "Hello Baron von Gikkingken, my name is Haru Yoshioka."

Baron smiled, coming to life before her eyes.

"You still need a little practice, Miss Haru. In Japan, you are supposed to put your given name last…" he felt his words fade away as the beautiful girl's brown eyes grew wide.

"You are alive! Oh!" Haru, a European, thought little of invading personal space unless she could clearly see that it was being used as a wall to keep others out – as Lisa had done for a while, keeping all of her brothers as arm's length. It did not occur to her that she might be making the cat doll uncomfortable by wrapping her arms around his neck in her girlish delight.

She realised her mistake when he stiffened against her.

Okay so he's not a hug person… I wonder if he likes being stroked like a cat though…

Haru let go quickly and looked down, studying her bare feet. Her maker had shown an exacting attention to detail even there – all of her toes, her fingers, all had been carefully shaped and worked upon so that, even as glass, they looked real. The girl distracted herself, thinking about her forming, trying to cool the embarrassed and shame-faced blush that covered her entire face.

Baron, meanwhile, was trying to figure out the girl. She was happy that she wasn't alone in her kind of existence, he could understand that, but she could not possibly like the way he looked – she had, after all, let go of him very quickly and was now not looking at him. Of course, he knew that a man with the head and tail of a cat, not to mention, completely furred underneath the suit, could not possibly hope to entertain a beauty like Miss Haru for long.

"I'm sorry," she said, breaking into his thoughts.

"What for?"

"Since I came to live with Cousin Johan and his wife Hiromi, I have also come to understand that some people do not like being hugged," she swallowed shyly. "I should have thought first to ask if you would mind me hugging you."

Baron blushed, and stammered, and finally, after a mixed up jumble of thoughts, was able to fit some words onto his tongue.

"I've never been hugged before, and you are so beautiful – I feel like a strange creature by comparison."

"Well, you sort of are – a strange, wonderful, beautiful creature. One of a kind, special," Haru wasn't at all sure that this was helping, but she wanted to get to know him better.  
Baron recalled something he had once heard Old Man Yoshioka say to a young man who had come to him for advice, and decided that it was good advice for him now too.

"Always believe in yourself, do this, and you will have nothing to fear."

The cat doll reached out carefully and drew Haru into a gentle embrace.

When he wants to hug, he does it so well.


End file.
